Keepsake
by Breze
Summary: [On hiatus] (warning: character death) AU: A twist on the Kyoto ending. A story about sorrow, love, moving on, and finding strength.
1. Eve

Warning: Massive jams between updates. Hazardous writing up ahead. Beware of slowly crossing grammar mistakes. 

Spoiler: Uh . . . Kyoto arc? Wait, no, I twisted that here, too. ^^; 

Disclaimer:  . . . . . . 

About: Um . . . does lots and lots of angst count as a type of plot? 

**Keepsake – Chapter One**

He ran a hand through the honey strands, enjoying its silken quality as they slipped through his fingers before moving them down to stroke the tender skin beneath his partner's bang, marvelling at its softness. Frowned at the wounds that were still mending, despite the Shinigami's healing capabilities. Gently, tenderly, lightly, he swept his fingers over the rose-tinted flesh, watching as it faded back to the pale hue he was accustomed to seeing. Even through the dim light of the roaring black flames surrounding them, Tsuzuki could clearly see the difference between Hisoka's fair complexions and his own large, tanned hands. 

Hands that were covered by sheens of unseen blood. 

Once, he had thought redemption would be impossible. There was no way a forbidden black sheep could possibly turn into an innocent white lamb. No way a stained sheet could possibly compare to a pristine cover. No way a sinful demon like him could possibly shed its sickening physique and become human. 

To have hope. 

To find happiness. 

To be trusted. 

But the boy, a mere child compare to his own age, had changed all that. 

The fire crackled, and soared higher, its black depth racing towards the sky. Tohda, his faithful Tohda, continued to call forth the searing heat. 

Hisoka slept on, blissfully asleep in his partner's embrace. 

Amethyst eyes gazed down at the deceptively fragile figure in his arms, and held him tighter, brushing his knuckles softly over dried tearstains. A wave of contentment washed over him. 

A smile touched his lips. "I love you," he whispered, as a mother would to her child. 

Movement. 

He looked up expectantly, his hands never ceasing to stroke the soft hair of his beloved. The shadow of a fallen pillar twisted and grew before his eyes, until a familiar form emerged. 

Cerulean eyes, the colour of a clear summer sky, met his own directly. 

"Come." 

Tsuzuki held his gaze for a second longer, then returned to the slumbering figure in his arms. What trials must he have gone through to leave him in such an exhausted state? And for him, no less? 

He smiled again, and smoothed a golden strand away from the closed lids, briefly shutting him own. "No." 

There was silence. But that was to be expected, wasn't it? 

_No?_

It wasn't the answer Tatsumi had expected. He had arrived just in time to hear Hisoka's confession. Watched with an aching heart, not knowing whether it was throbbing from relief or with pain, as Hisoka fell sound asleep from exhaustion. Heard Tsuzuki's whispered confession as unbidden tears seared his own eyes. 'No' was not the answer he expected. 'No' was not the reply he wished. 

"Tsuzuki, come," he repeated. 

The air burned. 

Tsuzuki shook his head, a small, yet genuine smile still present on his lips. He leant down, and pressed a lingering kiss on the pliant ones below him before looking up to meet the other's eyes. "Promise you'll take care of him for me." 

He knew then. He knew, peering into those bottomless violets that this would be . . . farewell? 

"I love you." The words fell out. The three little words he had struggled to keep suppressed, struggled to express all those years, fell out. 

Tsuzuki looked at him sadly. "I know." 

For once in his life, Tatsumi found himself at a loss. No, that wasn't true. When it came to dealing with those soulful amethysts, he had always been rendered helpless. Since the first time he laid eyes on the man before him, he had lost. Given himself completely and utterly to the man who so resembled his beloved mother. 

He knew, right from the start, that his story, _their_ story, would not have a happy ending. But he was content to merely watch as the story progressed, as all patient readers do. Watch as another stepped in to filled the position he had left empty since he exited the scene. Watch as his replacement slowly mended and patched up the torn pages, making it whole once more. No, he was overestimating himself. Hisoka had never been the replacement. Tatsumi had just been the minor character that covered gaps until the protagonist arrived. 

But he thought it would all be worth the wait. To see the happy couple declare their undying love and live happily ever after, that is how a happy ending is suppose to be, is it not? Isn't this what he had been waiting for, despite the bittersweet tearing of his heart? 

This is not how the story should end. 

"No." The weak whisper that escaped his lips was not a sound that anyone would expect from the infamous secretary in EnMaCho. But there it was, barely heard through the crackling heat that towered over them, casting eerie shadows that danced and shifted across their skin.  

Tsuzuki tilted his head in an innocent gesture, his lavender eyes sad. "I'm sorry." 

Tatsumi closed his eyes. "Sorry isn't enough," he hissed through gritted teeth. 

_Don't cry . . . Oh Gods, don't cry . . ._  

Anger took over, urged forth by pain and sorrow. "How? Damn it, how can you be so selfish?!" A hand gestured towards the sleeping blonde in his arms. "He loves you! I love you! Isn't that enough for you?!" 

Clear amethysts stared at him, silent. 

Fury . . . could never hold out long against him. Tatsumi forced himself to look away. 

"Asato . . . " A bare whisper. 

"Promise me. When I'm not there . . . Protect him." 

What could be said? 

Mutely, he nodded. Then, a gentle warmth was placed between his arms. Instinctively, Tatsumi's arms tightened around it, looking down to see the sleeping blonde he was meant to protect in place of his love. Slowly, his eyes drifted upwards, his eyelids heavier than usual, catching sight of a retreating back. 

He opened his mouth, but not a single sound came out. Is that it? Is this all he could do? Here he was, watching someone he had loved, had cherished for the past decades, and all he could do is watch as the other walks towards Thanatos's awaiting arms? 

As if hearing his words, Tsuzuki turned. 

"Tsuzuki ----" 

"When Hisoka wakes up . . . " A gesture towards his partner. "Please tell him not to be sad, and that . . . And that . . . I love him too." 

Crushed. The small surge of hope that had rushed forth upon a mere turn was mercilessly trampled upon, leaving him deadened live a dried leaf. Numbly, he nodded again. 

Lilac eyes crinkled in a smile. "Thank you. You have always been kind." 

'Kind'. Was that all he was to him? 

"Don't go . . . " The words slipped past his mouth, too late. Glazed blue eyes tried to search for a familiar figure amongst the hissing black flames. Found none. 

And then . . . the shadows took over, enveloping him in its amorphous embrace. 

~~~~~~ 

**You are sure about this, Tsuzuki?**

Long and serpentine, Tohda rose up above his flames, his onyx scales glimmering incongruously in the black light. 

Tsuzuki stood, an unseen wind ruffling his raven hair, his expression tranquil as he watch his companions vanish before his eyes. "Aa." 

**Why?**

The human smiled. "You've become nosy, Tohda." 

The Shikigami did not answer, merely stared at him expectantly. 

He turned back to stare aimlessly into the distance. "Because . . . I want them to be happy." 

**I may not be able to understand human emotions, but I do believe I know a pain-stricken expression when I see one, Tsuzuki.**

Tsuzuki chuckled, a smile wistful. "Perhaps, for now. But they will be happy. I know it." 

**How do you know?**

"I have faith." 

From a distance, the crumbling sound of yet another collapsed pillar was heard. 

"Tohda?" 

The slight turn in his direction was the only indication that the serpent-like summon was listening. 

"No matter what happens, or what they tell you, I . . . thank you." 

**There is no need for gratitude. It is my duty to fulfil your commands.**

For a minute, a glimpse of the infamous sheepish grin and puppy tail was present on the Shinigami's face. "Yeah, well . . ." 

There was a brief silence. 

**I will take care of him. If that is what you wish.**  

Relief. "Yes. It is. Thank you." 

Silence. 

"Tohda?" 

But the Shikigami did not reply. For he already understood. 

~~~~~~ 

Watari waited anxiously as he watched for the slightest, unusual twitch of shadows, any shadows. He had no doubt about Tatsumi's abilities, but there were two lives at stake here, three if he counted the secretary. Even Shinigamis have their limits. Being burned by Hell's black flames was one of them. 

Suddenly, as if sensing his thoughts, the flames soared higher, licking the thin panel of roofing above his head. He took a step backwards, his mind already focused on chanting yet another small prayer for his friend's safety. 

Then, as if the Gods had decided to answer his plea, his own elongated shadow began to shift, growing and expanding until they revealed two very familiar forms. 

_Wait  minute . . . two?_

A dreadful sense of nausea settled across his stomach. 

Bon. 

Tatsumi. 

Where was Tsuzuki? 

"He wouldn't come . . . " a choked whisper drifted to his ear. Watari watched, faintly comprehending, as the man he had come to recognise as a pillar of strength, fell to his knees before him. "He wouldn't come . . . " 

"Tatsumi . . ." Helpless. Pangs of pain were slowly staring to register. Pain from the loss of a friend. Could it possibly compare to the loss of your love? 

"He wouldn't come . . ." Clutched at the bundle in his arms even more tightly. Like a lifeline. A lost dream. An eternal promise. 

The young blonde stirred, a small frown creasing his honeyed brows. Nuzzling against a foreign form, dreaming of a fantasy misled, Hisoka slept on. 

~~~~~~ 

And then . . . he was beyond pain. 

Tsuzuki opened his eyes, and found himself upon a bridge. Beneath his was a sea, no, an entire _ocean_ of threads. Glimmering against one another, resting on a backdrop of non-colours, of a rainbow of colours, it was the most beautiful scene he had ever seen in his century-long life. 

Then he saw it. Saw the meaning behind their intricate paradigm, the complex, yet simple weaving done by experienced, godly hands. 

_The Threads of Life . . ._

Slowly, he walked forward, completely in awe at the sight before him. He saw million Threads sparkled into Life, burning brightly, worming its way to find its own unique pattern. He saw the Light within other Threads diminish, then ceased, leaving behind a legacy of knots. He saw a dozen Threads that continue to be Spun, growing longer than all others. 

Something caught his attention. Unwittingly, he lips quirked upwards as he watched the Threads progress, entwined. 

"Asato . . . Aa-chan?" A voice drifted over, its soothing quality nostalgic. He turned, as his heart began to beat a little faster. 

There, a tall, lithe figure stood, her ink black hair swaying to the softly humming breeze. She stared, her pale pink lips slightly ajar, her violet-blue eyes wide open. 

A century of longing stood before him. 

_Since when did she become so small?_

Feeling the irrepressible urge to grin, Tsuzuki took his first step on the other side of the bridge. Encircled the slightly smaller frame into an embrace he thought lost a hundred years ago. 

"I've missed you, Nee-san."  

End Chapter One 

_I've got my half-yearlies starting tomorrow, a bunch of studying yet to do, only half of the next "Loving You" chapter written (that thing just keeps getting longer T_T), an Easter story to plan, my major work to be done . . . and here I am, starting yet another epic with no clue as to what's happening next. What am I, crazy (don't comment)? _

_Anyway, you can probably see that this is going to be centred around Tatsumi and Hisoka (as usual . . . ). No, not together . . . okay, maybe together. I don't know, I haven't really thought about it (I'm not too keen on Tatsumi x Hisoka, though. Been there, done that . . .). It could very well end up being Tohda x Tatsumi, or Kijin x Hisoka. ::shrug:: We'll see. _

Oh, last thing. Fanfiction.net fans: ratings. Yet another thing I suck at. Would you rate this a "PG-13" or a "R"? Personally, I'd rate this a "MA", but Fanfiction.net doesn't have that, so . . . I'm going to stick with a "PG-13" for now, but if you feel that's too low, don't hesitate to tell me.

_Yes, I've been rambling a lot here. Why? Because I'm sick of talking to textbooks. They never talk back. ::Walks off to stare blankly at more parametric questions::_


	2. Dawn

Keepsake – Chapter Two 

It felt like spring. 

The blushing petals of the sakura groves whispered to one another as a zephyr strolled past, whistling a soft tune. Flowers exuded their sweet scent, trying to surpass the others, adding their own unique fragrance to the fresh air. Somehow, even through the thick overgrowth of cherry trees, sunlight managed to filter though, dappling the lush floor with light patterns, forming a multitude of strange but delightful shapes that shifted with every passing minute. 

It felt like spring. 

But it wasn't. 

The air was quiet. The birds did not chatter here, for there were no birds to account for in Meifu, aside from the few domestic ones that rarely flew beyond the comfort of cement walls. There were no flashes of colors, no fluttering of feathers. Nothing airborne to make its contrasting shape known against the blue, blue sky. Not a single cloud drifted past to disturb the wide expanse of azure that extended beyond the horizon. No sign of rain, nor thunder, nor storm. Quiet. So very, very quiet. 

Tatsumi didn't think he could ever grow to dismiss serenity as a source of misery. 'Silence is golden', or so he had always thought so. Long ago, when he was still on field duty, he used to love the rain in ChiJou, despite how much evidence would be lost because of it. There was nothing quite like sitting by the window at night, a steaming cup of tea in hand, watching as drops of clear liquid spider down the glass pane, listening to the soothing patter it made as it met solid surface. Soothing, as if the sky took pity on him and tried, in its own way, to wash away the memories of bloodshed he had just seen. Cleanse him. Then, just when his thoughts would drift back to their case, Tsuzuki would ------- 

No. He wasn't going to think about him. 

Six days. Six nights. Over a hundred hours, and god only knows how minutes, how many seconds he had waited. For the nightmare to end, and someone to wake him up. Just so he could find a pair of shining violet eyes to smiling at him and breathe a sigh of relief. 

It didn't happen. 

Not that he had expected it would. And so he was stuck here, living reality, breathing in the air of a dream he had no desire to endure. It hurt. Every moment, every second was yet another remainder of the life he could not save. His head spun, unable to stop reliving the last moments within the black hellfire, feeling its crushing heat. 

But the tears did not come. He refused it. 

Is this penance? In exchange for all the souls he had to take as the duties of a Shinigami, the ones most important to him must be taken away. First his mother, then his sister, and now . . . Tsuzuki. He thought he had forgotten, he thought he had let go. But he hadn't, he hasn't, and he wasn't entirely sure he ever would. His heart ached, his soul yearned, all for a man who loved another. 

It wasn't right, he had told himself countless times, it was stupid to keep dwelling like this, and it was idiotic. Tatsumi's middle name did not start anywhere near the letter 'i', and he would be damned before it would end with a 't'. But then, to be damned meant to suffer in Hell. So how was this different from where he was now? 

He _was_ an idiot. 

Barely a day after Tsuzuki had gone, he tried to turn to the only thing he could find comfort upon: work. There was always paperwork to be done in Meifu, salaries to cut, budgets to keep, facilities to fund. Work, work, work. It should have been never-ending, should have been enough to keep his mind and heart off one who was long gone. And it would probably have been enough, until Kanoe gave him a dozen cardboard boxes and a set of keys jangling merrily on a plastic key ring that was molded into the shape of an apple pie. He had taken the keys, not a word said, not a glance at his superior's sorry expression, and walked away. 

It wasn't until he reached Tsuzuki's house that he realized he was trembling, shaking so badly he could not even slide the key into the lock. 

Tatsumi never made it inside the house. 

He stumbled along now, every part of a broken man, wandering aimlessly outside the Diet Building. From here, he could just glimpse the glaring windows of the infirmary, beyond which laid his last link to the deceased man. 

Bleary eyes never saw the mahogany table that loomed before him, patiently waiting for another tea party, or a small outdoor picnic. Abruptly, his leg jarred against the solid wood, sending him sprawling across its hard surface. 

Motionlessly, he watched as a stray pink blossom drifted its way down onto the picnic table before his eyes. Tatsumi found himself stroking the pale petal with quivering fingers, feeling the utter fragility it represented. 

_"Even in daylight, these flowers appears almost like falling pink snow. The sakura blossoms here throughout all four seasons. A truly magnificent sight, ne, Tsuzuki-san?" _

_"Do you really think so?" _

_Blue eyes blinked at him, startled. _

_"We only think them beautiful because they bloom, then wither. And humans . . . . " _[1]

"Damn you," he whispered to no one, his teeth clenching. "Damn you, Tsuzuki." 

The petal shuddered to his breath, and fluttered to the ground. Away from him. 

His mind blanked, shuttered away as the pain he suppressed surged up, rebelling against its oppression. He never noticed the shadows that flared up around him, whipping mercilessly against anything within its reach like a storm that brewed out of control. Free from its master's leash, it ran rampaging on the pink and green grounds, slapping tree trunks with frenzy, throwing specks of dirt high in the air. A fierce black thread looped around an innocent branch and yanked, producing a sharp cracking noise in contrast to the hissing wind. It fell, scraping its pointed edge against the yielding flesh of the shadow's owner as a last protest. 

Tatsumi flinched, and snapped back. The shadows pulled back to their original positions, skulking. Azure eyes surveyed his surroundings blankly, his breaths haggard, the wooden furniture overturned. Sakura rained harder, releasing a torrent of pink petals. 

He fell to his knees. 

"I hate you." Even to his ears, the words lacked conviction. "I . . ." 

Can't. 

He couldn't hate him. Why? 

_"Ne, Tatsumi. Do you know why cherry blossoms are pink?" _

Purple. He wanted, _needed_ purple. But the color didn't suit him. 

Shaking hands reached up to cover his eyes, trying to stop the tears he finally let flow. Trying its best to cleanse his wounds. Too deep. 

And already, the bleeding on his hand had stopped, the gash slowly repairing, creating new cells for each one that was lost. 

~~~~~~  

_'I love you.' _

_Tsuzuki . . . ? _

_'Remember that, and please . . . please  don't blame yourself.' _

_Where are you? _

Verdant eyes drifted slowly open, unfocused, before a still bandaged hand rose to rub against them gently. Dropping his hand away, Hisoka blinked at the blinding white walls of the infirmary, then again, allowing his eyes to travel towards the nearby window, catching a glimpse of pale pink floating away. 

There seemed to be more a lot more sakura falling today. 

The boy turned away from the window, the sight of pink flowers still slightly disconcerting to him. His empathy remained dormant, passive, which meant that Watari had probably given him anesthetics that not only dulled his senses, but his inborn powers as well. 

Not that he minded, he thought sleepily. He glanced at the tiny foldout calendar hanging on the bedside drawer. Monday. Counting backwards, he realized he had been out unconscious for almost six days. [2] Funny that, every bone in his body remained weary, and his eyes did not feel like they wanted to stay open much longer. And to say he had been sleeping for a week, no less . . . Perhaps Tsuzuki's laziness wore off on him. 

A thought struck him. It was too quiet. Where was the baka, anyway? Hisoka had half expected to wake up to the sound of his partner whining about hospital food. 

_'Please don't be sad . . . I do hate seeing you cry.' _

He shivered, the voice from a fragment of barely remembered dream haunting him. It sounded like Tsuzuki, but it could not have been. Why would Tsuzuki say that? 

He scanned the room for assurance, a nagging voice in the back of his head deluding what could not possibly be. His eyes found nothing, not a rumpled sheet, an unkempt bed, nor a litter of food wrapping that indicated another sign of life. Dimly, he heard voices chatting down the hallway. None of them sounded like the purple-eyed man whose voice he could not mistake for another. 

So where was he? 

Fighting down an unsettling feeling in his stomach, Hisoka shook his head, berating himself for morbid thoughts. It couldn't be. Tsuzuki said he loved him, surely he wouldn't leave him right after saying that. He couldn't. Tsuzuki wouldn't do that. 

The blonde ignored the sense of weakness his thoughts led him, and inhaled deeply, feeling his terse muscles relax. Somehow, his partner always managed to wrack some kind of emotional havoc in him that no one, with the exception of Muraki perhaps, could do. But unlike before, this didn't make him feel weak, dependent. 

A soft flutter of wings gathered him attention. He lifted a hand obediently, a chaste smile crossing his lips as a small owlet enclosed her talons gingerly over a non-bandaged finger. She cocked her feathered head at him, cooing an affectionate greeting, then indulged him with fond nip with her beak. 

"Hello there," he half-whispered. Animals had always been his friends. His _only_ friend before he died and discovered more. His lost his aloofness around her now. "Do you know where Tsuzuki is?" 

For a moment, Hisoka thought that 003's eyes had widened. But a bird couldn't do that, could it? She regarded him, a solemn look in her large tawny eyes, and released his finger. Landing near his pillow, she waddled over, and attempted to nuzzle his cheek. 

Surprised, he turned to look at her. "003 . . . ?" 

When she remained silent, eyes seemingly more expressive then usual, he sighed, and ruffled her crown absently. Green orbs strayed to the open window. 

It was a beautiful day, blue sky, plenty of sunlight, and not a cloud to be seen a mile away. But then, Meifu always looked like this. Tsuzuki, the idiot he was, would always use this excuse to drag him outside for a long walk, deftly avoiding the long groves of pink-flowered trees, instead taking him to a variety of trails he had never known existed, marveling at the serenity and calm these walks never ceased to bring him. Of course, then they would arrive back at the office, a fuming Tatsumi with yet another folder or a handful of unpaid bills in hand, demanding to know why they had left their work unfinished. Well, Tsuzuki's anyway. Hisoka usually tended to finish his lot of work first. 

A flash of black peeked out between the clouds of pink and green before disappearing, and his breath caught for a minute, before escaping his lips in a relieved sigh. He wasn't close enough to see clearly, but the only other person with black hair in JuOhCho was Terazuma-san, and he didn't think the ill-tempered man the nature-walk loving type. [3] So his partner was just outside for a walk. Damn the man for worrying him like that . . . 

He snuggled deeper beneath the warm covers, and stifled a yawn, missing the poignant look his feathered friend sent him. 

Tomorrow, he thought drowsily. Tomorrow he might go to that cheesecake shop the baka had whining about. Maybe it'll take his mind off Kyoto . . . not that he himself really cared at all what the idiot thought. 

Slowly, the empath drifted to a deep sleep. A small sense of unease budded in the back of his mind, but he ignored it, pushing it to a far, far away in a small corner he'd never think about twice. 

_Black . . . had it really been black hair? _

~~~~~~ 

"How are they?" The voice sounded all too chilling in the ornate room, the ancient walls doing nothing to absorb the words from bouncing off it, failing to induce any semblance of warmth. 

Konoe bit back a shiver. Enma-Daioh had never been the warmest deity, but nothing had ever made the god sound as harsh as he did now. The man knew he was not at all happy about the loss of Tsuzuki, he was more than upset himself, the younger man having almost been like the son he had long-lost. But it has almost been a week, surely Enma-sama . . . 

"Kurosaki-kun have woken up a little while ago, and I do believe Watari-san had offered to inform him about . . . his loss. Tatsumi-san is grieving, but should be expected back soon." He wasn't entirely sure about the last past. Even if Tatsumi was willing to attend work, Konoe didn't know if he would let him. It wasn't he didn't trust his secretary, but the other deserved the time to mourn, and the chief was more than willing to give it to him. The same would go for young Hisoka, who would no doubt be hit worse by the news. Certainly, a small white lie to Enma wouldn't hurt, so long as he kept the Division working efficiently. 

"Good." The voice echoed again, hidden by the elaborate screen. "There is a request on the table behind you. Take it, and see to it as soon as possible." 

He nodded, and walked over to the ornamental table, picking up the worn scroll. Breaking the seal, he scanned the contents within and almost dropped it. Confounded, he stared at the broken seal, nevertheless recognizing the distinctive sigil despite the tear. 

Ocher eyes snapped to the screen before him, "But Enma-sa -------" 

"I trust you can attend to it with due care, Konoe." He cut him off, the words as clear a dismissal than any others would. 

Wordless, the Chief of Summons Division could only nod, bow, and step out of the room. 

When the sound of footsteps could no longer be heard, the shatter of breaking glass rang through the room. Violet eyes blazed, indigo with fury. 

"Tsuzuki . . . " 

End Chapter Two

Note: 

[1] Episode Ten, I think. An exchange between Tsuzuki and Tatsumi. /yes, I know, my translations aren't very good . . . 

[2] Monday is 'Moon Day' in Japanese. Six days back means Tuesday, with the kanji for 'Fire Day'. I thought it was fitting. 

[3] In the manga, Tsuzuki's hair is black. I prefer it, though it becomes a bother when I don't know the word for 'person-with-black-hair'. Yes, I know the 'shadow-looking-like-black-hair' thing is a far-fetch, but . . . ^^; 

_I'm aware that Hisoka was asleep when Tsuzuki made his declaration. Let's say his empathy was not dormant then. Now think about it . . . _

_I haven't really had time to develop the plot much lately, so this chapter is mostly based on emotional-play. Which I'm not very good at. Sorry if it was boring, and the characters severely OOC. And just for the sake of anyone's interest, I've noticed a weird connection between this fic and maths tests. It always seem to finish just before, or after, a maths test. So chances are likely the next chapter will be delivered sometimes during my next maths test. Let's hope not. T_T _

_As for reviews . . . _

_Bekquai ~ ::sighs happily:: So people do read my babbles after the fic after all. Though . . . there'll be lots more angst, that I can assure you. ^^;_

_Twylise ~ ::pats shoulder:: Sorry. But if it's of any help, I'm not bringing him back, so you won't have to lose him twice. ^^; ::hands tissues::_

_Vulpick ~ He's up. I'm just not sure he's going to start reacting until the next chapter. ^o^_

_Katsue ~ Eep! I'm . . . well, actually I haven't planned very far, but I hope you won't be disappointed!_

_Starza ~ Really? I've usually felt that . . . well, death seems to equate to some sort of release for him. Given his self-esteem, he probably felt he didn't deserve the gift to 'move on', or more importantly, the chance of seeing his sister again. Hisoka, with his love, gave him the insight that he did (deserve it), and, I guess, the confidence/strength he needed. So, given the opportunity (under the condition Hisoka would not be hurt physically with him), I think he'd do it. . . . am I making sense? ^^;_

_Sakusha-san ~ ::whimpers:: But . . . I had to! Or else the storyline, though underdeveloped, wouldn't work at all! He'll . . . okay, he won't be back, but he'll be mentioned . . . ! ::hides behind chair:: _

_Yuri ~ ::sigh:: I wish it really was *that* original. But if you read on, you may not find it so . . . It's, after all, an AU that follows . . . uh . . . I'll shut up now. ^^; _

_Akiya ~ Hehe . . . actually, I still haven't decided on the pairings yet (yes, *pairings*), but TatxHis may be one. Maybe. But there's this one I haven't done, and am sort of intrigued to do . . . _

_empath-no-tenshi ~ Will he? ^o^ I think I may have told you the answer already in this chapter, but . . . there'll be more Hisoka-angst. Actually, I think there'll be more of everybody-angst. I'm more worried about OOC Hisoka that I just *know* is going to slip . . . _

_Thank you everyone for who reviewed. Really. I know I'm not the best writer, nor the most frequent 'updater', and mistakes are probably popping up every two seconds . . . anyway, your support are all very, very much appreciated. Once again, thank you. _


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